


Love Letters

by mysensitiveside



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange 2020, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysensitiveside/pseuds/mysensitiveside
Summary: For the latest Bering & Wells gift exchange!Myka didn't know how she'd gotten herself into all this. But here she was, exchanging emails with H.G., but doing soas Pete, so she would go out on a date withhim.What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 20
Kudos: 68





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hermitstull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermitstull/gifts).



> Hermitstull/[MFAngeleeta](https://mfangeleeta.tumblr.com/) requested an AU, maybe with a smidge of angst but a happy ending.
> 
> Well, this is an AU of an AU, in a way... Because it's sort of a take on _The Half of It_ , which is itself an AU of _Cyrano de Bergerac_ , a French play by Edmond Rostand. And yes, I did save my draft of this fic as "Cyrano de Bering and Wells," because how could I not?
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Note1: Make sure you scroll through the "emails" to read the full thing!
> 
> Note2: If you "Hide Creator's Style," then you'll miss out on some of the special formatting that I did.
> 
> Note3: Not that it really matters, but this takes place in 2010 (when HG and Myka first appeared onscreen together).

The bell rang, eliciting the usual instantaneous reactions of chairs scraping backwards against the floor, teenaged chatter, and the beginnings of a mass exodus from the classroom. Trained just as well as any salivating dog waiting for food, the high school senior has been conditioned to react to that final bell of the school day.

Myka couldn’t even complain; she was often the same when she was their age, and she even _liked_ school.

“Don’t forget!” she called out to their quickly retreating forms. “Your Camus essays are due on Wednesday, don’t wait until the last minute!”

Myka was almost done cleaning off the blackboard, when she heard Pete coming even before she saw him.

“Hey, hey! How’s it going, Nicole? Miguel! When are you going to come talk to me about joining the team? Yeah, yeah, a likely story. Hey, man, give me five, up top!”

Sometimes Myka wasn’t sure whether Pete identified more with his colleagues or the students.

His voice grew louder, talking nonstop, until he pushed into Myka’s classroom.

“Mykes!” he called out, extending his arms as though marveling at the sight of her. Like she hadn’t just seen him at lunch. “My buddy. My pal. My most intelligent friend. How’s it going this fine afternoon?”

Myka frowned at him before asking, “What’s wrong with you?”

Pete ignored the question, but moved over to perch on the corner of her desk. “So, you know the new science teacher?” he asked.

“Miss Wells?” They hadn’t interacted much, but Myka knew who Pete meant.

Pete nodded and added, “The students call her H.G.”

“The students call her _H.G._?” Myka couldn’t help the disapproving tone that came out of her mouth. “That sounds highly unprofessional.”

Pete shrugged. “She said they could. And _anyway_ , we’re getting sidetracked. The point is that I overheard her talking to Irene about directing the school play this year, since Hugo retired, and so I thought maybe you could give me some tips about plays, or whatever, in case she might be looking for an Assistant Director.”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Myka could only stare at him for a moment. “What?” was the best she managed.

“Come on, Myka. You’ve seen her. She’s, like, mega hot,” Pete continued, as if that were an explanation.

Myka willed herself not to blush, but, well, she _had_ seen Helena Wells, and Pete’s statement might have been crass, but it wasn’t wrong.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So your big plan is to work with her on the play? Pete, what do you know about directing plays? Why don’t you just talk to her first?” she suggested.

But Pete was already shaking his head. “Yeah, no, that’s a no go. She’s both mega hot and mega smart, so I can’t just go up and _talk_ to her, what would I even say?”

Myka cocked her head to the side and murmured, “I feel like I should somehow be offended at that. Not sure whether on her behalf or mine.”

“Mykaaaaa,” Pete whined, dragging out the last syllable. “You’re hot and smart too, but you’re different, so you have to help me seem cool to H.G.”

He hopped down off Myka’s desk, his face brightening with an idea. “Here, I’ll send her an email,” he said, already reaching to wake up Myka’s computer. “I can ‘offer my services’ to help with the play.”

The way Pete said it made Myka want to gag.

Despite herself, Myka found herself curious about what he planned to say, so she watched over his shoulder as he logged out of her email and then signed in to his own.

To: hwells@univilleschools.org

From: plattimer@univilleschools.org

Subject: play

Hey HG!

So I hear you’re doing the play this year since old Hugo Miller flew the coop for greener pastures. I’ve got some free time so if u need some help, I’m your man. Hit me up sometime.

Peace,  
Lattimer

__  
Pete Lattimer  
Physical Education Department  
Varsity Wrestling Coach  
Univille High School  
Univille, SD

Pete was about to click “send” without a second thought, but— “Pete, wait!”

He twisted around to look up at her. “What?” he asked, taking in Myka’s incredulous face.

“You can’t send that!” she replied, gesturing at the screen.

He looked back at the email, but didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it. “Why not?” he asked.

“Well for one thing, you make it sound like Hugo _died_ , and for another, you...” She trailed off, unsure where to even begin. “You just can’t send that email.”

Pete’s shoulders drooped. “See, Mykes, this is why I need your help. So what do I do?”

Myka crossed her arms again and sighed. She pulled the corner of her lower lip into her mouth, absently chewing on it.

“Okay, move over,” she muttered, nudging Pete out of her chair.

He almost knocked it over in his readiness to let her take over.

“So what play are they doing?” she asked, once she’d deleted his previous work.

“Uhhhh.”

She turned to look at him, a single eyebrow raised. “Pete. You don’t even know what play they’re doing?”

He lifted his shoulders and they stayed up, tense. “How should I know?” he protested. “I don’t even know if they’ve picked one yet.”

“Right, well, you should find out,” Myka said. “I’ll write the first email for you, but you need to do that first.”

Pete nodded, a look of determination crossing his face. “I’m on it,” he said with a firm nod. Then his face broke out into a grin. “You’re the best, Myka. I’ll owe you one!”

And with that, he practically skipped out of the classroom and was gone.

* * *

To: hwells@univilleschools.org

From: plattimer@univilleschools.org

Subject: play

Hi HG,

Is it all right for me to call you HG? It feels weird when we haven't even officially met yet, but my students talk enough about you that I feel like I already know you.

Some of my students mentioned that you'll be directing the school play this year. I'll admit that I hadn't heard of “The Warehouse,” but I looked it up, and it sounds really interesting. I was wondering if you might be looking for any volunteers to help out. This probably seems like it's coming from out of nowhere, but I hope you'll hear me out--

a) No, I haven't worked on a play before.  
b) No, I don't have any technical expertise in theater.  
c) Yes, my most recent acting experience was in 4th grade, when I played the crocodile in Peter Pan.

Have I convinced you yet?

I might not have the experience you're looking for, but I'm ready to learn and willing to do whatever you'd find helpful. I don't even really know why I'm sending this. But when I heard about the play, I just... It suddenly brought me back to when I was a kid. I'd almost forgotten about this, but my mom loves the theater, and she used to take me to Akron to see shows. I haven't thought about those trips with her in a long time. Anyway, if you think you could use some help, let me know.

\- Pete

__  
Pete Lattimer  
Physical Education Department  
Varsity Wrestling Coach  
Univille High School  
Univille, SD

Pete scowled at the screen. “It makes me sound like a loser,” he decided. “And I don’t think that talking about my mom is the best way to go about getting the hot lady to talk to me.”

Myka rolled her eyes. “It makes you sound self-deprecating, plus it’s honest about your lack of experience. And what _really_ won’t help you is if you keep referring to her as ‘the hot lady.’”

With a sigh, Pete said, “Fine. Send it.”

And so it began.

* * *

Helena couldn’t help but smile as she read the new email that had arrived in her inbox.

It was true that she hadn’t met Pete Lattimer yet, but she had seen him around the school. She’d already somewhat written him off, assuming they wouldn’t be compatible as friends or anything else. But now she mentally chided herself for stereotyping him.

This email was... Not what she would have expected from him.

Smiling, she tapped the button to reply.

* * *

Myka peeked a look through the window in the doors to the auditorium. There were students goofing around on stage, and she saw Helena talking to some of the others in one corner. But where was Pete?

He’d texted her—“I’m so booooored come rescue me”—so apparently his first theater rehearsal wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped.

She spotted him, then, sitting towards the back of the auditorium, with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him.

Quietly, Myka slipped inside and went to take the seat next to him.

“What are you doing back here?” she whispered.

Pete sighed. “Since I don’t, like, actually know anything about theater,” he explained, “H.G. wants me to help out with building the set. But they won’t need that for ages, so I volunteered to sit in on rehearsals so I can ‘get a feel for the show’ or whatever, but I really said I’d stay so we could hang out. But we can’t actually hang out because she’s busy directing the play, and I’m _bored_.”

Myka couldn’t help it; she laughed.

“Hey, this was _your_ big idea, my friend,” she said.

Pete just glared at her.

* * *

When Myka pulled up her email, it took her a minute to make sense of what was in front of her. Because it wasn’t her email at all; Pete must have accidentally kept himself logged in on her computer, from last time.

She thought about simply logging out and switching over to her own account. She really did.

But. Well.

She clicked the “compose” button before she could really think through what she was doing.

The next day, Myka’s stomach did an involuntary flip when she saw the text from Pete.

Short and right to the point: “she wrote back”

Myka almost sent five different things—‘What?’ ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ ‘Who wrote back?’ ‘?’ ‘What did she say?’—before deciding not to respond at all.

It itched at the back of her mind through most of her morning classes. She was on break when Pete eventually showed up in her classroom.

“So,” he greeted her. “Apparently I emailed H.G. yesterday.”

She didn’t look up at him. “Oh yeah?” she asked distractedly, counting to make sure she had enough handouts for the next class. She didn’t know who she was kidding; Pete obviously knew what she’d done.

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed. He snatched the papers out of her hands and placed them out of reach on a student’s desk, forcing her to actually look at him.

Myka couldn’t help fidgeting under his pointed stare, and she cracked.

“I just, I don’t know... I just thought you could follow up, after the rehearsal, and you were still logged in on my work computer, so I just, you know, followed up for you. I didn’t think you’d mind, since you brought me into this in the first place.”

While she was babbling on, Pete pulled out his phone. He cleared his throat and read aloud, “It’s one of the things I love about teaching, you know? These kids—these young men and women—they’re still just figuring it all out. Figuring themselves out. But you gently prod them and challenge them; you open the door and wait for them to figure out how to step through it. And then sometimes something just clicks, and they _get_ it. I mean, most of the time they just stare blankly at you until the bell rings, but... _Sometimes_. And there was something about watching you up on that stage with them. Like I could see it happening in real time, that connection between teacher and student, between question and understanding.”

Myka blushed, hearing some of her words read back to her. She really didn’t know what she’d been thinking.

“ _Smooth_ , Myka!” Pete concluded. “I mean, damn, you make me sound smooth!”

With a shrug, Myka mumbled, “I just told her what I saw.”

“Sure, but it’s not something I would ever say.” He didn’t seem concerned or upset about it. He admitted, “It’s a little intense, for a second email, but she seems intense too so maybe it’s all good.”

“Well?” Myka eventually asked, when it became clear that Pete didn’t have more to say—a rare event.

“Huh?” He looked up from his phone, seeming to genuinely not know what she was asking.

Myka rolled her eyes. “Come on, I’m invested now,” she explained. “What did she say back?”

“Oh, umm...” He looked back down, scrolling. “She liked hearing from you—or, me—well, you. She basically just agreed with a bunch of what you said, but like, eloquently, and somehow related it to some poem?”

Myka could only stare at him. Was that really all he was going to give her? She regretted her decision to purposefully log out of Pete’s account the day before.

“So yeah, good job, team!” he concluded with a grin.

She sighed. Eyeing the clock on the wall, she merely said, “Can I have my papers back, please? Students will be here soon.”

She put her hand out, palm up, and he laughingly slapped it before handing over the papers he’d taken from her earlier.

“Well, if you want to go ahead and keep at it and see if you can score me a date, I wouldn’t turn you down!” He was back to staring at his phone and began backing out of her room without bothering to look over to see her reaction. “Password is ‘wrestlemania330,’ if you need to sign in again. Thanks, Mykes, you’re the best!”

* * *

Helena listened to Irene, talking about various upcoming fundraisers and events, but also kept a surreptitious eye on the people two rows in front of her and several seats over to the left.

Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering.

They seemed to be together a lot; Pete had continued coming to rehearsals, and Myka often joined him, sitting in the back. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were together. It had certainly seemed like Pete was interested in Helena, but he hadn’t said anything explicit about it. Maybe it was all been purely platonic, and Helena had been misinterpreting the situation.

Her eyes drifted over from Pete to the curly-haired head beside him. She didn’t know much about Myka Bering. Helena’s students seemed to like her, and there was something about her that Helena found intriguing.

Irene wrapped up the meeting, and Helena had to drag her attention back to the here and now. Still, she glanced again to her left, where Myka was murmuring something to Pete, who laughed.

As though feeling Helena’s gaze, Myka looked up and they locked eyes. Myka just stared for a moment, before she blinked and offered up a smile—small, but warm and friendly. Helena could only smile back.

Her grin widened when Pete followed Myka’s gaze to her and began to wave expansively through the air. She lifted her own hand in acknowledgment, before she found herself pulled into a conversation with the history teacher, Arthur Nielsen.

By the time she looked around again, Pete and Myka were both gone.

* * *

_...So how did you get involved in both science and theater? Not the most common of combinations._

_...Oh, but I must disagree. Science is what ties the world together, and thus, science goes well with everything. And consider a classic chemistry class demonstration--pure melodrama. Besides, all of teaching is theatre, in a way._

_...I have to ask about the nickname. Did your parents really name you H.G. Wells? Were they such avid science-fiction fans?_

_...Indeed, they really did. My brother Charles used to call me “George” (after the original Herbert G., of course), but it actually stands for something different. Have any guesses?_

_...Gabrielle? Gertrude? Guinevere?_

_....And which knight of the round table would you be? But no, all wrong guesses so far._

_...Oh, I’m definitely Dagonet, the court jester._

_...It’s Guadalupe, isn’t it?_

_...My dear Mr. Lattimer, if you ever decide to ask me out on a date, then I might decide to tell you in person._

* * *

Myka’s heart did some kind of stutter-step, as she stared at the computer screen.

Right.

She was supposed to be working to get H.G. to go on a date. With Pete.

Before she could really even begin to decide how to respond, there was a knock against the door jamb, and Myka looked up. And oh, there her heart went with its stutter-step again.

Myka stared blankly at Helena Wells, standing in her doorway with a friendly smile across her face, then back to her computer screen. She quickly minimized the email window.

H.G. stepped into Myka’s classroom. “Sorry to barge in. Miss Bering—”

“Myka,” Myka interrupted, only to immediately wish she hadn’t. “Um, you can call me Myka. Hi.”

“Myka,” H.G. acknowledged with a nod. “I’m—”

“Miss Wells—Helena. H.G.—I know.”

Inwardly, Myka cringed.

But H.G. laughed. “Well,” she said, “we’ve only just met, but we’re already finishing...” She angled her head in Myka’s direction and waited.

“Each other’s sentences,” Myka quietly obliged, looking down with a blush. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at all.” H.G. smiled and waved off her apology.

They were both quiet, then, until Myka looked back up questioningly. “Was there...?” she began, unsure why H.G. was even there.

“Oh, yes.” H.G. actually looked flustered, for just a moment. “I stopped by because I’m, well, I’m putting together a little unit on ‘the science of science fiction.’ And I wondered if you might be interested in a sort of collaboration, to help cover ‘the fiction’ part.”

“Oh.” Now it was Myka’s turn to look flustered. “Me? I mean, that sounds amazing. What, um, what did you have in mind?”

Excited now, H.G. settled herself into a desk in the front row. And Myka was mostly paying attention. Honestly. But just watching H.G., full of hand gestures and warm smiles and keen fervor, it was kind of hard to stay focused on what she was actually saying. The woman herself was compelling enough.

“So what do you think? Are you interested?”

Myka blinked.

“I... Yeah.” Myka _may_ have missed some of the details, but with her eidetic memory, she’d be able to work it out later. And anyway, she already knew this much: “Absolutely, I’m in.”

* * *

Myka sank down further into the auditorium seat, but couldn’t keep her eyes off the two people standing together at the base of the stage. She couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but she could assume well enough.

She’d told Pete to do it. Told Pete he should ask in person, and that Helena—she’d decided that Helena would be ‘H.G.’ to ‘Pete’ but would be ‘Helena’ in her own head; it felt important, somehow, that there be a difference—that Helena would likely say yes, so he should go ahead.

She’d _told_ Pete to do it. So it made no sense, of course, for her to be upset about it. And she wasn’t upset. Not really. Pete was her friend, and Helena was... Helena was special, and so was Pete, so everything was good.

Pete said something, and Helena laughed in response.

Pete made her laugh.

Which was great, because he was her friend, and she was happy for him.

Myka stood up, as silently as she could, and left the auditorium.

She didn’t notice when Helena’s eyes found Myka’s retreating form and watched her with interest. Her gaze remained fixed towards the back, even once the door had swung shut.

* * *

Helena didn’t often find herself at a loss for words.

But she was confused, more than anything else. This was an unexpected puzzle, before her.

The man sitting across from her seemed like such a completely different person than the one who’d been emailing her. The man in front of her was charming, she supposed, in a clumsily oafish sort of way. But the one in her inbox had seemed sensitive, clever, and thoughtful. Not like someone more interested in watching the baseball game on the television behind her than actually having a conversation with her.

“So, Pete,” she began, drawing his attention back to her. “Have you finished ‘Skippy Dies’ yet? I’m curious what you think.”

He simply stared at her at first, unblinking.

“Yeah,” he eventually blurted out. “Yeah, right, from the email I sent you. I...liked it.” He spoke haltingly, but nodded to himself. “Yeah, you know, it was totally robbed for the, uh, short book prize.”

Helena’s mouth quirked upwards. “The Booker Prize shortlist?” she asked.

Pete froze for just a moment, but then nodded jerkily. “Yep, exactly.”

She could see his jaw clench.

“Mm,” Helena murmured. “I thought it was a bit overly long, but I enjoyed the way Murray walked the line between comedy and tragedy.”

Pete wouldn’t stop nodding. “Yeah, yeah, for sure.”

They lapsed into silence, and then Pete’s eyes strayed back over Helena’s shoulder.

Helena glanced back behind her as well. She didn’t even know who was playing.

“So who are we rooting for, then?” she asked. “Grey or blue?”

Pete at least looked sheepish at being caught. “Oh, uh... Well, I’m rooting for Cleveland. They’re the ones in gray. The Twins are leading the division and the Indians aren’t very good this year, but...”

Pete chattered on; Helena tried to follow along and nod as if she cared.

By the end of the night, Pete’s team had lost, and Helena realized that he’d never even asked her about her middle name.

* * *

To: hwells@univilleschools.org

From: plattimer@univilleschools.org

Subject: last night

Hi HG,

I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for talking about sports all night. You made me nervous, if I’m honest. And when I’m nervous, I babble, and when I babble, I revert to stereotypical jock territory.

I do love sports, don’t get me wrong. Baseball means a lot to me because it reminds me of home, and my dad, and _family_ means a lot to me.

But I’m more than that too. So I hope you’ll give me another chance.

Either way, I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow.

\- Pete

p.s. For the record, though... Even though you make me nervous, I find myself feeling more for you every time we talk.

__  
Pete Lattimer  
Physical Education Department  
Varsity Wrestling Coach  
Univille High School  
Univille, SD

“Do you think it’s enough?” Pete asked. “Shouldn’t I say more to, I don’t know, show her how I’m all intellectual, or whatever? That’s what she’s looking for, right? Say some more about books or something.”

“Pete, you still have to be _you_ , even with me writing these emails for you,” Myka replied. “Or else this will never work. You’ll just have more bad dates.”

Pete protested, “Hey now, it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Still, with a sigh, he reached over Myka’s shoulder to hit ‘send.’

* * *

Myka reached out blindly for her phone, her hand scrambling around until it made contact with the device that had just vibrated. She squinted down at her phone, brow furrowed. The string of emojis that Pete had texted was totally incomprehensible.

Pete  
  
  
  


She wasn’t awake enough to do more than text back a single question mark.

It didn’t take long for a new reply to come in.

Pete  
  
  
  
?  
  
she said yes to another date!  
  


Myka knew she should probably text him back again. Congratulate him.

Instead, she allowed herself to drift back into sleep.

* * *

Myka shouldn’t have been surprised to find Helena sitting up in the bleachers. She shouldn’t have been, but she was.

She hesitated, standing frozen at the base of the steps. But Helena happened to look up from her book, and she must have seen Myka from the corner of her eye. She looked over, and a bright smile spread across her face when she caught sight of Myka more fully.

Helena gestured for Myka to come up, and well, Myka didn’t have any other choice anymore, now did she.

So she climbed up to the fifth row and sat down by Helena; next to her, but still ample space between them.

“I guess Pete roped you into coming to see a match, huh?” Myka asked.

“Indeed,” Helena agreed. “I’ll admit to a certain curiosity over the whole thing. It rather amuses me that one could view it as peak masculinity to wear a scant, skintight outfit and try to wrap yourself as closely as possible around another male body, so you can pin him to the floor beneath you.”

Myka laughed. “I know, I once tried to talk to Pete about the homoerotic potential of it all, but he wouldn’t listen.”

They grinned at each other, and Myka felt almost lightheaded. She had to look away.

“Hey!”

From the gymnasium floor, Pete had spotted them and was waving both of his arms through the air. Myka’s return wave wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic, but she smiled at him. He gave them two big thumbs up before turning back to talk to the boys on the sideline.

Myka put her hands down to the wooden bench beneath them, her palms flat on either side of her hips. In her peripheral view, she could see Helena mirror her actions, and she had to fight not to slide her left hand just a little to the side. To explore that small space between them, until contact.

“He’s a good guy,” Myka said, clearing her throat. “You know? He tries really hard, and he’s got such a big heart.

Myka could feel Helena turn to look at her, but she kept her own face forward, relaxing just a little when Helena looked away again.

“Yes,” Helena replied. “I’ve had some difficulty making sense of him, I’ll admit.”

“What do you mean?’

“Well on the surface, he seems so straightforward, uncomplicated,” Helena continued. “And yet these emails he sends me are anything but. Then again, we have trouble having a real conversation face to face, when it takes no such effort from behind a computer screen. I can’t make sense of him.”

Myka didn’t know what to say to that. She managed, “I think he just gets flustered, sometimes.”

Helena made a semi-skeptical noise, but said nothing else.

“So what are you—”

“Have you thought about—”

They each began simultaneously, then stopped together.

They both laughed. Myka glanced briefly over at Helena, then away again. “You first,” she said.

“Have you thought about what you might assign, for ‘the fiction of science fiction’?” Helena asked.

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Myka replied quickly. She shifted her body, scooting backwards a little, but pulling one knee up onto the bench, so she could turn to face Helena directly. “I thought ‘The Invisible Man’ might be an interesting option, for one thing we both cover. There’s the science of light, and vision, and chemistry. Or maybe ‘The First Men in the Moon,’ with gravity and physics. But I want to include a mix of things. I’ve been reading through the stories in Octavia Butler’s ‘Bloodchild’ collection. And I was thinking about Margaret Atwood, but I’ve found that I actually like her poetry more than a lot of her speculative fiction. Have you read any of her poetry?”

Helena’s eyes were bright, delighted, and she quoted, “‘You fit into me like a hook into an eye. A fish hook. An open eye.’”

“Ha, yes!” Unconsciously, Myka leaned forward. “‘Like breath or a balloon, I’m rising, I hover six inches in the air in my blazing swan-egg of light. You think I’m not a goddess? Try me. This is a torch song. Touch me and you’ll burn.’ The sweet viciousness of it, I love it.”

She realized, suddenly, that this was probably the most she’d ever said to Helena before—in person, that was. She looked down into her lap, embarrassed.

“Anyway, science fiction,” she mumbled. “Sorry, I’ve gotten sidetracked.”

Helena’s hand brushed lightly against Myka’s knee, and she jerked her gaze back upwards.

“Getting sidetracked is half the fun sometimes, don’t you think?” Helena asked, her face open and relaxed.

“Well what about you?” Myka asked. She was hyper-aware of the fact that Helena still hadn’t removed her hand from Myka’s knee; she was careful not to dislodge it as she gestured for Helena to talk. “What have you been thinking about for the science fiction unit?”

They went on talking for... Well, for however long it takes for a wrestling meet to finish.

They only realized they’d missed virtually the whole thing when Pete came loudly bounding up the bleacher steps.

“Hey, ladies, so glad you both could make it!” Pete exclaimed, almost bouncing with excitement. “Derrick _killed_ it for us at the end, did you see? That escape, followed up by the near fall going the other way... Clutch move!”

Both Myka and Helena were nodding along, though neither one had any idea what he was talking about.

Helena leaned in and whispered, “Do you suppose that means they won?”

Myka could only stifle a laugh and shrug.

* * *

“What do you like about Helena?”

Myka had planned to get work done, while she sat with Pete during the latest rehearsal. But she’d barely gotten through a quarter of her lesson plan before her mind had started wandering.

“H.G.?” Pete asked, now turning towards Myka. “I don’t know. She’s really pretty. And smart. And her accent is sexy. And she seems like someone you can count on to have your back. And she smells good.”

He nodded decisively, like this was a definitive list of ‘desirable attributes.’

“Why?” he asked.

Myka shrugged. “Just wondering.”

She had a few things she’d add to Pete’s list.

Like how her eyes could look so deeply into Myka's own. How she got completely invested in everything that she did, whether that was teaching or theater or learning something new. How her mind worked in such a way that left Myka in awe. How every once in a while, Myka would catch just a glimpse of something darker in her, but she always pulled herself back. How Myka connected with her in a way that almost scared her. How Myka could live in an ocean of her thoughts and never get tired of listening to her. How they hadn't really known each other for long, in the scheme of things, but Myka already felt like Helena understood Myka, saw her, knew her better than anyone else.

Pete and Myka sat beside each other, a world apart, and watched Helena Wells.

* * *

Myka couldn’t stop looking at her watch, over and over again. Time was moving way too slowly.

It was 10:02pm. Surely the date would be over by now, wouldn’t it?

Finally she gave in and reached for her phone.

Pete  
  
So how did things go tonight?  
  


Of course, now that she’d sent the text, she’d have to read into how long it took him to reply, and what he might be doing if he was too busy, and—

Myka’s phone buzzed, several times in a row.

Pete  
  
So how did things go tonight?  
  
(Thumbs Up Sign ≊ Thumbs Up)   
  
def better than last time  
  
even scored a kiss at the end!  
  
oh and her mid name is GRACE  
  


Myka swallowed past the lump in her throat. She sent her own quick reply back and then put her phone down again.

Pete  
  
So how did things go tonight?  
  
(Thumbs Up Sign ≊ Thumbs Up)   
  
def better than last time  
  
even scored a kiss at the end!  
  
oh and her mid name is GRACE  
  
(Thumbs Up Sign ≊ Thumbs Up)   
  


So they’d kissed. That was fine.

She was happy for them. She liked them both, so if they were happy together, then that was perfect, and she was _happy_ for them, she was...

* * *

Myka avoided them both.

She replied to Pete’s texts. She told him that he didn’t need to email H.G. anymore, because he could just talk to her now. He didn’t need Myka’s help anymore.

But she stopped going to rehearsals—she had too much work to do, she explained—and put Helena off when she asked about meeting up to talk about their science fiction project.

Everything was fine. She just needed to get over herself, and that would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to see either of them for a little while.

Myka gathered up her things at the end of her last class, hoping to make a quick exit.

Of course, total avoidance was made more difficult when they all worked at the same school, and either one of them could just stop by her classroom whenever they felt like it.

Helena stood in Myka’s doorway, her brow furrowed and her arms crossed.

“Helena,” Myka squeaked out. “Hey. Sorry, I’ve got to head out, I—”

Helena stepped into the classroom and closed the door behind her. “Myka, why have you been avoiding me?” she demanded. She sounded more confused than anything else.

“I...have not been doing that,” she began unconvincingly. “I’ve just been swamped with work, lately. You know how it gets sometimes.”

Helena frowned. She protested, “And _you_ know that I can read you better than that by now. I know you’re upset. What I have yet to figure out is why.”

Myka didn’t say anything; just stared down at her shoes.

“We haven’t seen each other for nearly two weeks,” Helena murmured. “I thought we were friends.”

The confusion in Helena’s voice had given way to hurt, and it was that that made Myka look up and meet Helena’s eyes.

“We _are_ ,” she insisted. She took one step forward, but stopped there. “Helena, I... This is me trying to be your friend right now. Yours and Pete’s. I know it doesn’t make sense, and I never wanted to hurt you, but please just bear with me for now.”

“But what does Pete have to do with this?” Helena asked.

Myka sighed and closed her eyes.

She somehow didn’t hear Helena walk further into the classroom and startled at the feel of another hand grabbing hold of her own. Her eyes flew open, and Helena was there, _right there_ , and looking oh so beautiful.

From confusion to hurt and now determination—Helena squeezed Myka’s hand and didn’t let go. Her voice firm, she said simply, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Helena repeated. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’m not letting you pull away from me.”

Myka didn’t reply; her eyes flitted back and forth across Helena’s face until she let her tense muscles ease, just a little. Finally, she squeezed Helena’s hand back.

Helena nodded, satisfied, and Myka thought that that would be it, and she’d gotten through this.

Instead, Helena said, “Well come along, then. I have something to show you.”

She tugged Myka by the hand, leading her out into the nearly-empty hallways—not letting Myka go, even when a few students glanced over at them—and straight out of the school.

“Don’t you have rehearsal?” Myka asked. Now she was the one who was confused.

“Not today.”

Helena pulled Myka right over to Helena’s car, only releasing her when she told Myka to get in.

Myka stayed standing by the passenger door, even as Helena moved around to the other side of the car and got inside without waiting for Myka.

“Get in the car, Myka!” came the call from inside, as Helena rolled down the window slightly.

Myka got in the car.

* * *

The ‘something’ that Helena had to show Myka turned out to be nearly an hour’s drive away. They’d remained in comfortable silence during the drive, with the radio playing softly in the background. Myka had decided to just go along with whatever happened, and it felt freeing.

The ‘something’ that Helena wanted to show Myka turned out to be short hike along an unmarked, almost overgrown trail. The path led out to an overlook, with an amazing view out over Badlands National Park.

Myka actually gasped and came to a standstill when they turned the last corner, and the park came into view.

Helena turned to look back at her and smiled. She moved a little closer to the edge and then sat down in the grass.

Myka went to join her after a moment. They sat, side by side, and just looked.

Myka had been to the Badlands before, of course—one of the few special things to do in South Dakota—but not in a long time. It was such an unusual place. The rugged beauty of the rocky, layered formations was unlike anything Myka had ever seen before.

And even with the vast space out in front of them, it felt like they were secluded, somehow. The pine trees surrounding them left just this small bit of room, before the trail turned back into the forest. It was just the two of them, together.

Helena was finally the one to break the silence. “I come out here to think, sometimes,” she said, voice soft and reverent. “It makes me feel small, in a way that feels big.” She chuckled to herself. “Nonsense, I know.”

“No,” Myka interrupted. “I mean, I get it.”

Neither one of them spoke again for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, as the sun began to set.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” Myka said at last. She kept her voice quiet, not wanting to disturb the peace between them, or before them. But she reached out without looking, her hand scrambling slightly until she found Helena’s own. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Helena squeezed her hand back in reply.

Avoiding them hadn’t helped, anyway. It had only made her miss them both.

* * *

“I like her, Pete.”

The words slipped out of her, without her meaning for it to happen.

“Huh?” he asked.

They were at Myka’s apartment for movie night, the first in quite a while.

She’d had maybe one glass of wine too many, and the words had been beating in her chest for too long, and they’d just...slipped out.

Myka wasn’t paying any attention to the movie at all, but she kept her face forward anyway.

Still, something of her thoughts must have shown, because Pete reached for the remote and hit the pause button.

“You like who? Kate Winslet?”

Myka huffed out a short laugh. “No, Pete, not Kate Winslet,” she said. “Well. I mean, sure, who doesn’t. But no, that’s not who I meant.”

“Okayyy...?” Pete drew out the last syllable questioningly. He really had no idea.

Her heart was beating way too fast, but now that she’d started, she had to get it out there.

“I like Helena.”

“Oh.” Pete relaxed. “Yeah, I know. I like her too.”

“No, Pete, you don’t...” Myka sighed and leaned forward, putting her face into her open palms.

After a moment, she shifted her head so she could peek over at him with one eye through her fingers.

He looked confused. Concerned.

With a deep breath she repeated, as meaningfully as she could, “I really like Helena, Pete.”

It clicked, that time.

“ _Oh_.”

He sank back into the couch cushions; Myka didn’t move.

“Does she know that?” he asked quietly.

Myka shook her head, still hiding behind her hands, but still looking at him too.

“Does she feel the same?” was his next question.

She shook her head and shrugged at the same time.

“Right. Well. I’m not sure what to say to that. I mean...”

He trailed off and didn’t finish that thought, but then added, “I think I should go home.”

“Pete, no.” Myka straightened back up. “You’re my best friend, and I would _never_ do anything to— I just felt like I had to tell you, I’m really sorry.”

“Okay,” he said stiffly. “But I just need to think on my own for a bit, now.”

He stood up and went to get his jacket.

Myka’s face was stricken, but she could only watch him. She’d already said too much.

Pete was heading for the door, but then stopped. He walked back to Myka’s side and reached out to squeeze her on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

She nodded, throat too tight to speak.

And then he left.

* * *

Myka was reading at her kitchen table when her cell phone started to ring. She almost dropped it when she scooped it up to see who was calling and saw that it was Helena. She wasn’t sure that they’d ever talked on the phone before.

Still, she picked up.

“Hey, Helena, what’s up?”

“Hello, Myka. Have you talked to Pete, lately?” Helena asked.

Myka swallowed.

“Um, yeah, I guess, just regular talking, you know.”

It had been a few weeks since their aborted movie night. And they had been talking, though studiously _not_ about Helena.

“We weren’t exactly dating, you know,” Helena was saying, “it was all still casual. I still couldn’t quite figure him out, but it was going nicely enough, I’d thought.”

“Okay?” Myka _really_ didn’t want to hear about their dating life. “Is something wrong?”

“Well he just told me he thought we’d be better off as friends,” Helena concluded.

This time Myka _did_ drop her phone, and in her instinctive attempt to catch it, she accidentally slammed her right leg into the bottom of her kitchen table, and the phone clattered down to the floor.

“ _Ow_ , shit.”

Myka stretched to get the phone, bringing it back to her ear in time to hear, “—rling, are you all right?”

“Yeah, sorry, um...” Myka rubbed absently just above her knee, a spot that was now throbbing. “Sorry, Pete did _what_?”

“So he hadn’t talked to you about this?” Helena clarified.

“No.” Myka practically exhaled the word in a sigh. “He definitely didn’t. Helena, I’m so sorry, I don’t—”

“No, it’s all right,” Helena interrupted. “He may be right, really. I just don’t understand what happened. Anyway. I’ll let you go. I’m sorry to bother you, Myka.”

“It’s no bother,” insisted Myka. “And I’ll talk to him, okay? I’ll make him see sense, it’s going to be fine.”

* * *

Pete didn’t see sense, though.

“Look. Mykes.” They stood an arm’s-length apart, with both of Pete’s hands resting on her shoulders, like he was giving her a pep talk. “I’m not saying this was an easy decision, okay? Because it wasn’t. And I was pretty upset about what you said for a while, I’m not gonna lie to you.”

Myka opened her mouth to say something back, though she had no idea what, exactly, she was going to say. Regardless, Pete spoke over her, adding, “But _I_ like her because she’s hot, and _you_ like her because of your deep intellectual connection and emotional bond, and stuff. And because she’s hot, obviously. But there will be other hot ladies for me.”

“And none for me?” Myka couldn’t help grumbling.

Pete laughed, and for the first time in a while, Myka thought that maybe the two of them were really going to be okay.

“No,” he agreed. “No other ones for you, because you’ve already got one.”

Myka sighed. She said, “I don’t even think she likes me like that, though.”

Pete squeezed her shoulders. “Now that I’ve started paying attention, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Mykes,” he said. “Plus, she only liked me because of what _you_ said to her. You’ve got this. You just need to grow a pair, metaphorically, and go talk to her. That’s what you told me to do from the beginning, after all.”

* * *

To: hwells@univilleschools.org

From: mbering@univilleschools.org

Subject:

Hi Helena,

I have something I need to tell you, but I’m too much of a coward to do it in person, and emailing you about it feels right, somehow. Coming full circle.

And I know that none of that makes sense to you yet, and I’ve made this sound all serious, but please bear with me.

So.

When Pete first emailed you, all those months ago, about volunteering to help out with the play, it wasn’t actually Pete. It was me. I’d agreed, for some stupid reason that no longer makes any sense to me, to write a first email for him. It was only supposed to be one email. He was interested in you, but god love him, he isn’t always the best at stringing a lot of words together. I thought I was helping him out. I thought I was just doing a favor for my best friend.

Then I kept writing to you, even though I hadn’t meant to at first. Because I was selfish. I _liked_ talking with you, and I thought that it was harmless.

It wasn't.

I lied to you. And I lied to myself. It was wrong.

And I am truly sorry.

Even though I _know_ it was wrong, though, I can’t bring myself to fully regret it. Because it’s still how I first got to know you, and I can’t regret that.

Helena, you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Everything I said, I meant it completely. I know that doesn’t excuse my deception, but I don’t want you to think that I was just making things up, or anything like that.

Because that’s the other part of this. When Pete told you over email that you make him nervous, or that your smile is beautiful, or that he was feeling bigger and deeper things for you every day... That was me. It was all me.

And it’s my fault that Pete said the two of you should be friends. Because I told him that I have feelings for you, and he’s the most stupidly loyal friend you could ever ask for.

I’ve tried to ignore how you make me feel, but I can’t. I don’t want to anymore. You make me feel happy, Helena.

So.

If what you feel for me is friendship, then I understand. The privilege of being your friend is not something that I would take lightly.

If you can’t get over what I did, then I’ll understand that too. I will do whatever I can to earn back your trust, but I will respect whatever you might or might not want from me.

But, just in case it’s not clear-- I feel more than friendship for you. I think we could be something special, together, if you’re willing to give me a chance.

\- Myka

__  
Myka Bering  
English Department  
Univille High School  
Univille, SD

* * *

Myka sat hunched down in the seat, as low as she could go without basically lying on the floor. Pete was saying something, but she couldn’t pay attention to him.

She kept jiggling her leg up and down in nervous energy, until Pete clamped a hand down on her knee.

“ _Breathe_ , Myka,” he hushed at her.

She exhaled.

Rehearsal was almost over. She hadn’t received any word back from Helena, after her email. But Pete reported back to her that Helena had asked where she was the day before. So, well, here she was.

Up at the front of the auditorium, Helena called for the end of rehearsal. All of the students moved to gather up their things and head out. Helena just looked back at Pete and Myka with an unreadable expression on her face, said nothing, and then moved off backstage.

“What did that mean?” Myka whispered to Pete. “Are we supposed to follow her back there?”

“Umm... Maybe?” Pete shrugged unhelpfully.

Neither one of them moved.

Several minutes after everyone else had left, Helena finally came back out. She stared at them, eyes hard and jaw clenched.

After another long moment, Helena finally walked off the stage and up the aisle towards them. She still hadn’t said anything. Myka felt like her stomach was going to tie itself into knots.

In unspoken tandem, both Myka and Pete stood up together as Helena got closer. She moved into the row in front of them, standing before them.

Without a word, she slapped Pete first, and then Myka.

They both flinched, more out of surprise than anything else.

“You both lied to me,” she said. “I cared for both of you, and you lied to me, repeatedly. I can be professional. I can continue to work with each of you. But I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”

Then Helena turned and walked out of the auditorium.

Into the silence, Pete pointed out, “She said ‘yet’! I think that could have gone a lot worse, really.”

* * *

_...I thought of you today. There wasn’t one thing in particular that made me think of you. I just think of you a lot. Sorry if that sounds weird. But there was a song on the radio this morning that was also playing when you took me to Badlands. And then later I was listening to a podcast, and they were talking about politics in London. And Pete told me about the sets he’s designing for_ The Warehouse _._

_So yeah, I thought of you, so I thought I’d say hi. And I don’t expect you to write back, but I’m going to keep sending you emails every once in a while, unless you tell me not to._

... _Grace is a beautiful middle name, by the way. George might still fit you better, though, I haven’t decided. My middle name is Ophelia. My parents run a bookstore, so_ of course _, they decided to throw some Shakespeare into my name._

_...Cheyenne is one of your students too, right? She’s always been quiet, but she’s really been impressing me lately. She’s seemed to really respond to the latest book that we’re reading, and it’s always so rewarding when I see a student make connections like this._

_...It was good to see you earlier. I know we’re just meeting to continue working on the science fiction project. And I’m really glad that you did want to continue with that. Even though we’re keeping everything strictly professional, it was really good to see you._

_...Pete says that the play is really coming together. He says that he still doesn’t know anything about theater, but that it’s been cool to watch the students respond to your direction. To see how they’re getting better and growing more confident each day. I can’t wait to see it. I’ll definitely be there for opening night._

_...Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in._

_I love that song, by Leonard Cohen. I’ve been thinking about the cracks inside us. Sorry, I don’t really have anything else to say today._

_...Have you read_ The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks _? I’d heard of it before, but only just recently picked it up, finally. It’s fascinating. I recommend it, if you haven’t read it yet either._

_...Break a leg, tonight!_

* * *

To: mbering@univilleschools.org

From: hwells@univilleschools.org

Subject: tonight

Myka,

I believe you said that you’ll be coming to the play tonight. If that’s still the case, maybe you could come and see me afterwards?

-Helena

__  
Helena Wells  
Science Department  
Theater Director  
Univille High School  
Univille, SD

* * *

The play really was phenomenal. A story of wonder, adventure, and found family. The students did an amazing job, and Pete’s sets even looked pretty good.

Myka could see real pride in Helena’s eyes when she came out to take a small bow at the end. The crowd—a full house—was already on its feet, and the students on stage whooped and cheered for her as well. Pete released a shrill, appreciative whistle, drawing Helena’s gaze in their direction. Helena couldn’t actually see them, because of the lights, but that didn’t stop Myka from feeling like Helena knew that she was there.

“Thank you all for joining us, tonight,” Helena called out once the volume of clapping died down a little. “Tell your friends what a marvelous job these performers did, because we’ll be back at it again tomorrow! Good night!”

Helena waved, along with the cast, as they stepped backwards so the curtain could fall in front of them.

The lights in the auditorium came up, and with them, Myka’s nerves reappeared. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying not to fidget too much.

“So, you ready, tiger?” Pete asked, punching her lightly on the arm.

Myka just scowled at him.

His smile was genuine, then, as he asked more softly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around and wait for you?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She managed a tight smile back at him.

“All right,” he agreed amiably. “But you better text me to let me know how things go, okay?”

She nodded.

Then he reached out to envelop her in a hug. It took Myka by surprise, but she latched onto him gratefully, hugging back with equal force.

Once the auditorium had emptied out and she was alone, Myka suddenly realized that she wasn’t actually sure where she was supposed to find Helena.

She could hear talking and laughter coming from backstage, so she cautiously headed in that directly. In the wings, she caught the eye of Brian, one of the actors and also a student in Myka’s class.

“Hey Brian, fantastic job tonight!” Myka said honestly. “Do you know where Miss Wells is?”

“Thanks, Miss Bering! And thanks for coming! I think she had to go get something in her classroom?”

With a wave of thanks, Myka went off in that direction.

Helena was just about to close her classroom door when she looked up at the sound of Myka’s steps coming down the hallway.

She froze, neither closing the door nor pushing it back open.

Myka stopped several feet away.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Myka.”

A pause. Silence.

“You did _such_ an amazing—”

“Do you think we could—”

Myka laughed. “You first,” she offered.

Helena looked back at the floor, then back up at Myka. Her expression wasn’t friendly, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t cold either.

“Do you think we could talk?” she asked. “We can...” Helena angled her head back inside the classroom.

Myka nodded, trying not to be too overtly enthusiastic about it. “I’d like that,” she said.

Once they were inside, though, neither one said anything until Myka blurted out, “I just want to say again how sorry I am for what I—”

“I think I knew, really,” Helena interrupted. She was looking out the window, with her back to Myka.

Myka stopped talking.

“I mean, once I’d had even a few times of talking with Pete, and then talking with you, well...” With a wry smile, Helena briefly met Myka’s eyes in the window’s reflection. “Well, you’re not all that good at pretending to be Pete, I’m afraid.”

Myka’s returning smile was almost more of a cringe.

“So when you sent me that first email— _your_ first email, that is—I wasn’t surprised,” Helena went on. “I was hurt, but not surprised. I hadn’t let myself think it consciously, before then, but I knew.”

Myka dared to ask, “Why didn’t you let yourself?”

“Because if I’d been wrong, that would have been...difficult.”

Myka didn’t understand, but she remained silent and waited.

It didn’t take long for Helena to explain further. “Because between the two of you, what I knew of you in person, _you_ were the one I had feelings for.”—Myka inhaled deeply, but didn’t interrupt.—“And if it really were Pete sending those emails, then would that be enough? His wonderful words, but only on a screen, compared to everything that you were? And yet he was the one who’d made it known that he was interested in me, so if it wasn’t him sending those emails, then what did I have left?”

Helena hadn’t been looking at Myka as she spoke, though Myka couldn’t have looked anywhere else.

“And now?” she asked, when Helena finally turned around and looked Myka square in the face.

“And now.”

For a minute, Myka worried that Helena wasn’t going to have anything more to say.

“Do you still mean everything you said, in that email when you explained everything about you and Pete?” Helena asked.

“Yes,” Myka replied, almost before Helena was done asking. “Yes, all of it.”

“Well then...” For the first time in what felt like _way_ too long, Myka found herself on the receiving end of one of Helena’s smiles. “Then now, I’ve had quite enough of punishing you, because I’m only punishing myself as well.”

Myka thought her heart might beat right out of her chest, and she _thought_ that she understood what Helena was saying, but maybe it was just wishful thinking, or—

“Does that mean...?” Myka began.

“It means come over here and kiss me, you fool.”

Myka crossed the room in four long strides, and Helena’s open arms were there to meet her.

Myka’s hand found Helena’s cheek as her lips crashed into Helena’s. She kissed her hard, wanting, sinking into the feeling of Helena’s arms wrapping around her. Myka kissed her again, and again, and hoped that she’d never have to stop.

After...some amount of time, they eventually pulled apart, just a little.

"Helena, are you sure about this?" Myka couldn't help but ask.

They were still wrapped up in each other's arms—Helena's fingers had slipped beneath the hem of Myka's shirt and were softly stroking the skin there; one of Myka's hands was draped over Helena's shoulder and the other was buried in her hair—which might have been answer enough, but Myka needed to be sure.

"I mean, I just want to double-check. I know I hurt you, and—"

Helena kissed her again, effectively answering the question.

* * *

Pete  
  
myka?  
  
myyykaaaaa  
  
mykes. type A if i should be worried B if ur busy (Kissing Face With Closed Eyes ) or C if i should call the cops b/c hg murdered u  
  
A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Pete.  
  
(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes )  
  


**Author's Note:**

> They didn't make it into the fic, but in my mind...
> 
> Claudia is either a student teacher in Science, or else she's part of the IT staff team.
> 
> Steve is part of the Social Studies department, maybe teaches an elective on World Religions?
> 
> Leena and Abigail are guidance counselors.
> 
> And Vanessa is the school nurse.


End file.
